Teaching Tony
by joy4957
Summary: Gibbs thinks Tony is too reckless and tries to teach him a lesson, but things don't go quite as he planned. Will Tony's effort to prove himself wind up killing him?


Teaching Tony

 _by joy4957_

 _A/N: This is my first NCIS story. Love this show, and always particularly loved the relationship between Gibbs and DiNozzo. I hope I've done them justice here and that you enjoy the story._

 _Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, but I wish I did!_

 _ **NCIS—NCIS—NCIS—NCIS—NCIS—NCIS—NCIS—NCIS—NCIS—NCIS—NCIS—NCIS—NCIS—NCIS**_

The whole thing was a damn mess, Gibbs decided, as he ducked behind the car as another shot pinged off the vehicle uncomfortably close. His arm ached from the bullet graze he'd sustained, but he didn't give it much thought as he fired his Sig with deadly accuracy, taking out yet another of the drug ring members. DiNozzo, crouched beside him, was firing as well, anxiously looking at Gibbs between rounds.

"Sorry, Boss," he began for the fourth time. It was his fault that Gibbs had taken a bullet. If he'd only realized in time that the drug ring's Colombian contacts would also be present when they had gone to take in the young petty officer, vastly outnumbering him and Gibbs, then this would be a more fair fight. Though he hadn't really worked out in his head exactly _how_ he was supposed to have known this, he knew that he worked for Gibbs and so he was _supposed_ to know this kind of thing. He figured that Gibbs was also not happy that when all this started, Tony had stood defiantly in the open, spraying the area with bullets as he tried to give Gibbs time to get to cover, until Gibbs yanked him back hard with an angry snarl, pulling him too into relative safety behind the car.

"Save it, DiNozzo!" Gibbs snapped, quickly reloading his firearm and immediately firing again.

 _Damn_ , _Gibbs will kill me if they don't_ , thought Tony, firing and hitting his second gang member, then recoiling as a bullet shattered the glass of the car window just above him. Good thing they weren't quite as good at shooting as they were at drug running. He had to come up with something to redeem himself. He took a quick look around, cautiously rising above the protective cover of the car but immediately sinking back down as more furious gunfire erupted, a bullet kicking the sideview mirror by his head and spraying small shards of metal and glass on him, cutting his cheek and forehead.

"This has got to stop," he muttered, impatiently wiping away the blood. Gibbs shot him a sharp look, quickly assessing the damage, and Tony gave him a reassuring grin. He wanted to make a movie comparison but frankly was a little too preoccupied to think that clearly. Wait – maybe the final shootout scene from _Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid_ – and he was just about to make some smart comment to Gibbs but then stopped, thinking _oh, perhaps not, that didn't wind up ending too well for them_.

Tony eyed the building about 30 feet away with interest. It could provide a better angle from which to fire upon the drug runners as well as spread out the target so they weren't all concentrated on the car. He could use a couple parked cars in between to help shield him. Already starting to push himself up a bit to make the run, he said to Gibbs, "Boss, if you can pin them down with some gunfire, I think if I break cover for the building, I can draw some of them off and –"

He was instantly shoved back down by Gibbs. "Are you trying to kill yourself?" he snapped angrily, blue eyes blazing. "Too much fire power! Stay put!"

"But Boss –" Tony began.

Gibbs glared at him fiercely. "Don't even _think_ about making a run for it, DiNozzo, or I swear I'll slap you so hard your grandchildren will feel it!"

Further discussion was interrupted as a barrage of bullets blazed over their heads, riddling the car with more lead. Both Gibbs and DiNozzo answered in kind, and then fortunately the cavalry showed up at that moment in the form of a swarm of heavily armed and pissed off local LEO's. The gun battle ended shortly thereafter, with an additional two drug dealers dead, three more shot and wounded, and the other three finally realizing the futility of resisting and surrendering to the officers.

Gibbs pretty much ignored DiNozzo as he worked to clean up the crime scene, dismissing his wound as merely a flesh wound, even though it produced an impressive amount of blood that soaked his left sleeve. Ducky, now on the scene, however, would hear none of it and insisted on checking it out and sending him to the hospital for treatment and antibiotics. DiNozzo offered to go along with Gibbs but one patented Gibbs glare was enough to inform him he was clearly not welcome, so he stayed on for a couple hours to work with the local LEO's and document things for his report.

 _ **NCIS—NCIS—NCIS—NCIS—NCIS—NCIS—NCIS—NCIS—NCIS—NCIS—NCIS—NCIS—NCIS—NCIS**_

The next morning, Tony strolled into the office early (having determined this was certainly not the time to be arriving late), setting a large coffee cup on Gibbs' desk with a bright smile. "Good morning, Boss!" he said cheerily, but the anxiety in his green eyes belied the bravado. "How are you?" He eyed Gibbs warily, noting the arm sling.

Gibbs gave him an icy look. "Fine, DiNozzo, how are you?" he growled, immediately looking back down at his computer and clearly shutting DiNozzo out.

"I … uh –" Tony swallowed hard and leaned in closer to the desk. "Sorry about yesterday, boss. Do … do we need to talk?" He'd really rather just get this over with and move on instead of wait all day for the explosion.

Gibbs stood and picked up a file, moving around his desk and heading towards the elevator. "Nothing to talk about," he said dismissively. He turned just as he was leaving the bullpen and added, "Now write your damn report!"

"Yeah, on it, Boss," Tony replied automatically, dejectedly slinking over to his desk and sinking into the chair.

By mid-day Tony couldn't take the silence and glaring from Gibbs anymore. He saw his chance when Gibbs headed for the elevator and he quickly followed, slipping into the elevator just before the doors closed. He offered a faint smile that quickly faded as Gibbs glared at him. Tony reached out and pushed the emergency stop button. Drawing a deep breath, he said, "Look, Boss, I really think we need to clear the air about yesterday."

Blue eyes lasered him and he shifted uncomfortably. "Yeah, DiNozzo, wanna tell me what happened out there?"

"Yeah, well … sorry I didn't know about the entire Colombian gang being there when we went to pick up Jenkins. I don't –"

"Not that!" Gibbs interrupted impatiently. "Why did you stand out there with no cover when things began to go down? Why did you think it would be a good idea to break cover and try to get over to the building in the middle of all the gunfire?"

Tony stared at him, disconcerted. So _that's_ what this was about? "Ahh … you were injured and I wanted to give you time to get to cover. And, uh, well, when we were in the gunfight I thought a different vantage point would give me a better angle to-"

"I'm talking about the risk, DiNozzo!" Gibbs hissed heatedly. "We were pinned down by heavy fire, and there was no way you could have made it to the building without being shot. Where's your head? Were you trying to get yourself killed?"

"No, but-"

"You take too many risks. Did you want me to bring back your body for Ducky? Don't you value your own life?"

Tony frowned. "Of course I do, but there are more important things –"

"Dammit, DiNozzo, YOU are important!" Gibbs snapped angrily, frustrated that Tony simply didn't see it. "You've got to stop acting recklessly, or I don't know if I can trust you in the field."

Tony's eyes widened and he felt like he'd been punched. "Hey, I've always had your six! I've always protected those around me!"

Gibbs lifted his hand and Tony braced for the expected head slap, but instead Gibbs curled his hand around Tony's neck and gave it a squeeze, saying more softly, "Yeah, but I need you to understand that you count, too. You need to be more careful and protect yourself. It's not okay for you to put yourself at unnecessary risk." Gibbs watched Tony's face carefully.

Tony opened his mouth and then shut it, thinking about Gibbs' words but still not convinced. He sighed, realizing he wasn't going to win this battle, so maybe if he just agreed, things would smooth over. "Okay, fine, I'll try to keep that in mind," he muttered reluctantly.

Gibbs' lips tightened as he saw that this was not the end of the matter and that Tony really didn't get it. He'd have to give this some more thought on how to get through to his Very Special Agent. It was too important to just let go.

 _ **NCIS—NCIS—NCIS—NCIS—NCIS—NCIS—NCIS—NCIS—NCIS—NCIS—NCIS—NCIS—NCIS—NCIS**_

Over the next couple weeks, it seemed to Tony that he couldn't do anything right. Gibbs either ignored or rebuffed him curtly. Tony even found that he was passed over for some field interviews or activities that would normally have been handled by him as the SFA, Gibbs instead assigning the tasks to either McGee or Ziva. Tony grew more dispirited as time went by, quietly working at his desk without his usual comments and observations and playful distractions.

Gibbs watched his Senior Agent covertly. Had to teach him a lesson, he knew, although it wasn't always easy. Why Tony would even think about breaking cover when there was almost a dozen desperate drug runners firing at them was beyond him. It wasn't the first time he did something like that, either, and that was just not acceptable. Tony didn't seem to value his own life, acting recklessly more times than Gibbs cared to think, and getting injured more times than he wanted to remember. A couple weeks of menial work and minimal involvement might help get him in line, although Gibbs' heavy-handed approach was met with stern disapproval from Abby and Ducky when they could see how miserable Tony had become. He sighed. He wasn't really enjoying this, either. After his trip to Pittsburgh tomorrow to testify at a trial, he'd ask Tony over for dinner and a good talk and get things back to normal, with a hopefully more circumspect and careful SFA that he wouldn't have to worry about _quite_ so much.

A new case had come in two days earlier, with two Marines shot dead and left along the shore banks of the Potomac. The team quickly and efficiently worked the case, determining forensically that Commander Richard Saunders was the killer, and the motive was some stolen currency plates. Finding Saunders, though, was proving difficult, and Gibbs hoped to close the case shortly by having his agents canvas and track local known criminals who might be interested in acquiring the plates to see if that led them to the elusive Saunders.

 _ **NCIS—NCIS—NCIS—NCIS—NCIS—NCIS—NCIS—NCIS—NCIS—NCIS—NCIS—NCIS—NCIS—NCIS**_

Gibbs gave a good stretch before sliding into his car, preparing for the four-hour ride back to the Navy Yard, pleased to note it was not quite 1400 hours and he wouldn't be getting back late. He'd have time to go to the office to clean up a couple things and ask DiNozzo over for a not-too-late dinner and a meaningful chat. He took a satisfying sip of coffee and then slipped the cup into the cup holder. His testimony had gone well against the naval lieutenant, and he was satisfied that the case would reach a favorable conclusion. It had been worth the drive to Pittsburgh. He frowned as he suddenly felt an unaccountable stirring in his gut that something was wrong, but he tried to dismiss it. No reason he could think of to be concerned right now, but the uneasy feeling was hard to ignore. Maybe his famous gut was on the fritz … yet he trusted his instincts and unconsciously braced himself for trouble.

Although he was certain he would have been called if something had come up during his absence, he hadn't been in touch with his team for several hours and wanted to check in, so he pulled out his phone, calling DiNozzo's desk, only to reach his voice mail. Irritated, Gibbs tried McGee and then Ziva's phones, only to find them missing from their desks, too. Frowning, he looked at his watch again. They were supposed to be working cold cases today, with no reason to be out in the field, at least not without informing him. His gut kicked into overdrive as he called DiNozzo's cell phone and he did not pick up, apparently not following rule three – never be unreachable – and Gibbs was not pleased. Clearly his SFA needed a refresher on the rules, and Gibbs would be only too happy to remind him when he returned to the office. He tried McGee next, and as soon as he heard his voice he demanded abruptly, "Where are you, McGee?"

McGee sounded a little startled and uneasy. "Oh, uh, boss, Ziva and I just arrived at a warehouse in Arlington – "

"And why are you there?" Gibbs asked impatiently.

McGee swallowed hard. "Well, boss, we received a tip that Commander Saunders would be making a deal here to sell the currency plates and so we – "

"And where's DiNozzo?" asked Gibbs sharply, and McGee could almost feel the glare though the phone.

"Uh … he got here before us," McGee answered nervously, not wanting to get Tony in trouble but knowing better than to lie to Gibbs. "I think he's already inside but we're –"

"He went in without backup? To confront someone already suspected of murdering two people?" Gibbs was furious … and afraid, but he preferred to stoke the anger right now. "Of all the idiotic –"

"Wait, boss," McGee interrupted, and Gibbs could hear him say "Ziva, what was that?" and there was an urgent reply too faint for him to understand, and then McGee got back on and said breathlessly, "Boss, we're hearing gunfire inside the warehouse. Gotta go."

"McGee, call me back!" Gibbs demanded, then realized McGee had already disconnected. "Dammit!" he cursed vehemently, tossing the phone on the passenger seat. He started the car and stomped hard on the accelerator. He had to get back quickly and he would break all speed limits to do so. The four-hour trip was going to be made a lot shorter.

 _ **NCIS—NCIS—NCIS—NCIS—NCIS—NCIS—NCIS—NCIS—NCIS—NCIS—NCIS—NCIS—NCIS—NCIS**_

 _Meanwhile, a few minutes earlier …_

Tony sighed, hunching his shoulders against the chill in the warehouse as he crouched behind some crates awaiting the arrival of Saunders and his buyer. He hoped the tip had been a good one and that he could bring a successful conclusion to this case. He felt bad for having ditched McGee and Ziva so he could head out alone, but he had a real need to do this himself and show Gibbs how valuable he was to the team. The apparent loss of confidence Gibbs had shown in him the past couple weeks had been painful, and Tony was determined to turn that around. Bringing in a killer and recovering stolen currency plates seemed to be a great way to accomplish that …

Tony heard the sound of a car driving into the warehouse, and he peered around the tall pallet of crates cautiously. The car was quickly followed by another one, and both drivers exited their vehicles to meet in front of the first car, both carrying large briefcases. Tony could easily identify the taller of the two men as Commander Saunders. _So far so good_ , he mused. His vantage point where the deal was going down was good; he had a full view of the two men and could clearly hear their conversation. He felt his cell phone vibrate in his pocket but couldn't risk answering it now. He pulled out his Sig and quietly waited for the right moment.

Saunders had placed his briefcase on the hood of the car and snapped it open, showing the buyer the currency plates. "See, these are the real deal. Price is $250,000."

The other man inspected the plates carefully, then said, "$200,000."

Saunders shook his head with a derisive laugh. "Price is firm at $250 thousand. You can make a hell of a lot more than that with these. If you aren't interested, I can find another buyer."

There was a pause, then the buyer nodded and the deal was made. He opened his own briefcase, which was filled with money, shoving it towards Saunders. _Show time_ , Tony thought. He stepped out and announced loudly, "Federal Agent, freeze!"

Both men quickly pulled out guns and immediately began to fire. Tony returned fire, tapping the buyer twice in the chest. He recoiled as a shot came dangerously close, pinging off the crates near him and causing a puff of sawdust that temporarily blinded him as dust flew into his eyes. That gave time for Saunders to duck behind the car before Tony could get off a clear shot.

"Give it up!" Tony yelled, shooting the car tires. No escape for Saunders with that, anyway.

"Never!" Saunders shouted back, quickly firing several rounds. As Tony flinched back, Saunders dashed for the stairs to a narrow catwalk that traversed the warehouse about ten feet up. Tony immediately followed, ducking as Saunders shot backwards at him. He scrambled up the stairs as Saunders raced down the catwalk, trying to stay low since there was no cover now. He fired twice at Saunders' retreating form before Saunders turned suddenly and fired again. Tony sucked in his breath sharply as the bullet hit his chest. He was wearing a bulletproof vest, but that didn't keep the impact from being painful. Worse, though, the blow made him lose his balance. He grabbed wildly at the narrow railing but his momentum was too much, and as he pitched forward helplessly from the catwalk and saw the cement floor rapidly approaching, he thought, _Shit. If the fall doesn't kill me, Gibbs will_. Then there was a jarring impact and a flash of intense pain and finally blessed darkness …

Saunders ran down the stairs and approached Tony's crumpled, unmoving form to finish him off just as Ziva and McGee ran up, guns drawn. "Stop! Federal Agents!" yelled McGee. Saunders paused but then raised his gun, still aiming at Tony, but before he could get off a shot, Ziva took the kill shot, and a fine mist of blood sprayed from Saunders' head before he dropped lifelessly to the ground.

 _ **NCIS—NCIS—NCIS—NCIS—NCIS—NCIS—NCIS—NCIS—NCIS—NCIS—NCIS—NCIS—NCIS—NCIS**_

The scenery flew by unnoticed as Gibbs raced back to DC. He was already planning the reaming out that DiNozzo would get … but he couldn't help but worry. Shots fired, his SFA alone and facing who knew what … he shook his head, trying to clear the unwanted thoughts as he pictured Tony lying injured, bleeding out – no, he wouldn't go there, he told himself fiercely. But somehow he knew, as he always knew when it came to DiNozzo, that there was trouble and DiNozzo would not come out of this unscathed, and he needed to be by his side as quickly as possible.

It had been an agonizing 45 minutes of silence before Gibbs' phone rang, interrupting his dark thoughts. He snatched up his phone, his stomach clenching. It was McGee. "What happened?" he demanded tersely.

"Saunders and his buyer were killed and the currency plates were recovered –"

"What about DiNozzo?" Gibbs interrupted testily. He needed to know first if his agent was okay.

"Umm, boss …" McGee hesitated, heightening Gibbs' fear.

"McGee! How's DiNozzo?" Gibbs asked again urgently.

"H- he's en route to Bethesda," McGee replied flatly.

Gibbs' blue eyes narrowed and his heart beat harder. "How bad?" he asked in a softly dangerous voice.

"Don't know, boss. He was unconscious. He fell off a catwalk and has a head injury and some other injuries. But I think the paramedics had him stable before they left." McGee added nervously, "Sorry, boss. I'll let Ducky know right after we hang up -"

"Don't call Ducky; I will. I'll be at the hospital in a couple hours." Gibbs abruptly ended the call and blew out a breath of frustration and fear. He quickly placed a call to Ducky. "Ducky? Need you to go to Bethesda. DiNozzo is being brought in."

Ducky's soft voice was edged with concern. "Oh dear. What happened to our young Anthony, Jethro?"

"I don't know yet, but I'd like you there. I'm driving back from Pittsburgh and will be there in a couple hours. If you hear anything, let me know."

"Of course, Jethro. I'm sure he's all right. Drive carefully."

Gibbs tossed the phone on the passenger seat and thumped the steering wheel hard. "You'd better hang on, DiNozzo," he muttered. "I'm not done with you yet."

 _ **NCIS—NCIS—NCIS—NCIS—NCIS—NCIS—NCIS—NCIS—NCIS—NCIS—NCIS—NCIS—NCIS—NCIS**_

Gibbs made record time in reaching the hospital. He'd had a couple brief updates from Ducky en route, but no firm information beyond the fact that Tony was, at least, still alive and in surgery. As he ran into the Emergency Department he saw Ducky, who was looking tired and worried and had obviously been waiting for him.

"How is he, Ducky?" Gibbs demanded grimly.

"He's listed as serious but stable for the moment. He took a shot to the chest," Ducky paused at Gibbs' angry gasp, "but fortunately, the boy was smart enough to wear a bullet proof vest, so he sustained only some painful but minor bruising from that. But he also took a fall and he hit the ground hard and sustained a head injury as well as a broken clavicle, two cracked ribs, and numerous contusions. Dr. Barnes just gave me an update. They have repaired and set his shoulder and expect no permanent damage. He said Anthony also has a concussion and is still unconscious, which is a bit of a concern, because he should have woken up from the surgery by now, and given his history and the fact that he's had several concussions … the longer he's out … well, we just have to wait, Jethro." He placed a comforting hand on Gibbs' arm. "I'm sure he'll come through this just fine, Jethro. He's been injured worse and always pulled through."

"I want to see him," Gibbs said tightly.

"Of course," Ducky agreed in a soothing voice. "And I think he needs to see you, too. He was just moved into a room. I believe Ziva and Timothy are already up there. "

 _ **NCIS—NCIS—NCIS—NCIS—NCIS—NCIS—NCIS—NCIS—NCIS—NCIS—NCIS—NCIS—NCIS—NCIS**_

Ziva and McGee quickly straightened up as Gibbs strode down the hall, meeting him just outside of Tony's room. He looked at their distressed faces and demanded coldly, "How is he?"

McGee wet his lips nervously. "Still not conscious but he is breathing on his own. They think he'll be okay, though, boss."

Gibbs lips tightened and he fixed them with an icy blue stare. "What the hell was he doing out there by himself? What was he thinking?"

Ziva blinked hard and said shakily, "He received a tip from one of his informants and apparently thought he could bring Saunders in and – "

"He didn't _think_ at all!" Gibbs returned roughly.

Ziva's dark eyes flashed angrily. "It is your fault! It is only because of you that this happened. Tony would not be lying in a hospital bed now if you just –"

"Stop, Ziva!" McGee interrupted, shaking her arm.

"No, he should know!" Ziva returned fiercely, wrenching her arm loose, her stormy eyes still firmly fixed on Gibbs.

Gibbs looked from one to the other, eyes narrowing. "All right, what's up?"

Ziva drew a deep breath. "Tony was upset because he thought … well, you have not really talked to him – or even looked at him – since you were shot a couple weeks ago and he has not been given much field work since then and ..."

"He thinks you blame him for being shot, and that you don't trust him anymore," McGee continued. "He said he wanted to prove to you that he was still a good team member, and that he could do the job, and then maybe you'd trust him again. I guess he thought bringing Saunders in singlehandedly would accomplish that. We didn't know that he'd try to nab Saunders by himself, or we would have stopped him. When the tip came in he said we would follow up on it but asked Ziva and me to run down to see Abby first about something, and when we got back to the bullpen he had already left. As soon as we realized what was going on, we went after him, but we arrived a little too late." He sighed and shook his head. "Sorry, boss."

Gibbs stood quite still for a few moments, absorbing this, then turned without a word and walked into Tony's room. The room was dim and fairly quiet, only the sound of the heart and pulse monitor disturbing the silence, but Gibbs took some comfort in its steady and reassuring beat. He approached the inert figure on the bed and eyed his agent carefully. Tony looked young and vulnerable, his dark hair tousled, his face pale, his eyes closed, and his unnatural quiet stillness was unnerving. Even unconscious he appeared in some discomfort, his face drawn with pain, his breathing a little rapid. Gibbs noted the heavily bandaged left shoulder, multiple bruises, and deep abrasion on his forehead and swallowed hard … it could have been far worse, he knew, but seeing him lie here so quietly – AGAIN! – was heartbreaking.

Gibbs stared down at Tony with narrowed blue eyes, his thoughts turbulent. Damn! How could he have let Tony think he blamed him for what happened with the drug runners? Why had he let his anger about the whole situation keep him from talking to Tony? Of all people, he knew that Tony had a rare talent for automatically assuming blame for any situation, internalizing it to a painful pitch. He should have seen this sooner. He knew Tony had been unusually quiet in the past couple weeks, practically tiptoeing around him as if to stay well out of his way. When Tony had approached him, wanting to talk, Gibbs had rebuffed him, and the few times he had talked to Tony, he had practically snapped his head off. No wonder he felt as if Gibbs blamed him, even though it was totally unjustified.

Gibbs leaned over, close to Tony's face, and said quietly but firmly, "DiNozzo! You need to wake up now and get back to work! Your team needs you!" He paused, then added softly, "I need you." He gave Tony the gentlest of head taps and murmured, "I never blamed you for getting shot and it wasn't your fault. You are still the best field agent I've ever seen, and a valued member of the team. There's no one I'd trust more watching my six."

Gibbs straightened wearily with a sigh, still watching Tony's face closely. He snagged a chair with his foot and drew it near to the bed, sinking into it, and reached out and clasped Tony's lax hand, hoping they both could glean some comfort from the warm touch. Tony, normally so responsive to Gibbs, even when not fully conscious, did not disappoint now. Within a few minutes he stirred with a slight groan and his green eyes fluttered open. Slowly he blearily focused on Gibbs' anxious face. "Hey, boss," he said weakly, with a ghost of his rakish smile.

Gibbs allowed a return smile tinged with relief. "Hey yourself, DiNozzo."

Tony moved restlessly, wincing, and Gibbs asked, "You in pain? I'll call the doc-"

"No," Tony insisted, starting to shake his head and immediately realizing that was not a good idea. "I'm okay." He sighed, his eyes straining to sharpen more, and looked apprehensively at Gibbs. "You mad at me, boss?" he asked, a little forlornly.

"What do you think, DiNozzo?" Gibbs replied evenly.

"I guess I messed up …"

Gibbs arched an eyebrow. "Ya think?"

Tony grimaced again, raising a shaking hand to his aching head. "Sorry, boss. I know I should have brought backup, but – "

"Not now, Tony. Plenty of time to discuss that later," Gibbs interrupted firmly. "You just need to rest right now."

"I've _been_ resting," Tony murmured a little defiantly, but in truth he was having difficulty keeping his eyes open, and he welcomed sleep as a refuge from his throbbing shoulder and pounding headache. "I should … be … getting up …" His voice faded out as he starting losing the battle and he began to subside, but after a few moments his eyes suddenly popped open and he asked anxiously, "You staying?"

Gibbs felt a painful twinge at the yearning behind that question, the clear need to be reassured. Tony didn't have a childhood that allowed him to realize that loving parents are always there for their children. "I'm not going anywhere, DiNozzo. I've got your six. Go to sleep, Tony," he said softly.

A small satisfied smile crossed Tony's lips and he instantly relaxed, sliding into a restful sleep, fully confident that his boss would watch out for him. Gibbs studied him for several moments, absurdly moved by Tony's deep and easy trust, feeling the familiar surge of paternal instinct to protect him. The intense anxiety over the past few hours was catching up with him, and he felt relieved but drained and exhausted. He sighed and slid back more comfortably on the chair and stretched out his legs with a weary yawn. Still maintaining his grip on Tony's hand, he closed his eyes, soothed by Tony's even, regular breathing, and allowed himself to drift off as well.

Ducky, who just walked up to check on Tony, stood quietly by the door observing the tableau. Tony was obviously resting comfortably now, a marked improvement over how he was before Gibbs arrived. Ducky noted their linked hands with a smile. He turned to leave, unwilling to disturb them. Looked like father and son were doing just fine.

 _A/N: I am overwhelmed and gratified by the positive comments and kind reviews. Thank you so much for your encouragement and support!_


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